


All The Pretty Things That We Could Be

by Raven_Athena



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Artist Sam, Artist!Sam, Baker Gabriel, Baker!Gabriel, Because of Reasons, Dean and Cas are ridiculous, Everyone agrees, F/M, Gabe is a mopey lil shit, M/M, Pining Gabriel, everyone enjoys meddling, hopefully, medals for meddling, meddling is fun, probably everyone is going to be here eventually idk, which just means I love everyone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-15
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-02-08 23:48:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1960857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raven_Athena/pseuds/Raven_Athena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Gabriel owns a bakery and is an avid people watcher who happens to fall in love with a fellow bus rider, Sam is a college student with a love for art, Dean works at a garage and mopes a lot, and Cas is an English major who can't stop thinking about a certain grease monkey.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hiii~
> 
> I was planning on just making this one long thing, but I decided to make it into chapters instead. I'll probably be updating fairly often, but I'm great at procrastinating, so who knows.
> 
> Also, I apologize for the tags. I kinda abused them, I realize. I'll fix 'em later.
> 
> Oh yeah, title is from Little Numbers by BOY.  
> [[[I may change it, not sure yet.]]]
> 
> Update--6/3/16:  
> I've made some edits to this chapter, nothing major but just fixing some typos and adding some bits here and there.

Gabriel snagged a muffin he'd baked yesterday off of his countertop as he rushed out, turning the lock on the door and slamming it shut while simultaneously pulling the wrapper off of the muffin and shoving it in his mouth, crumbs flying around. Being late almost every day tended to make a person good at multitasking, out of sheer necessity.

"Crap, crap, crap, crap, CRAP," he chanted, racing down the hallway of his apartment building and down the stairs. He might make it _just_ on time if he hurried--and if the bus was fast enough.

Too many variables there to be safe.

He ran faster.

~

He hopped onto the bus the second it slowed down, and settled into his usual seat. Only then did he relax. He'd worked hard to open up his own bakery, and he didn't want anything to fuck this up, especially since he was still getting his feet wet. His own fault, really, for being late so often, but he wasn't wired to get up at six in the morning--six-thirty, today--every single day. He was a night owl by nature.

He glanced around at the few other occupied seats, noting all of the stoic businessmen and harried mothers, and the occasional teenager-and-backpack duo. Nothing out of the ordinary. Except-- _well_. Gabriel did a double-take. Now _there_  was something out of the ordinary. Or rather, some _one_. A few seats back and across from him, sat an absolutely gorgeous, giant of a man. Gabriel couldn't tell you exactly what about him caught his eye, but there seemed to be an inviting air about him that beckoned you to him. Shaggy brown hair, a warm tan skin color. Sketchbook sprawled across his lap. He was hunched over it and scribbling, but Gabriel was too far away and the angle too wrong for him to see what it was. He was tempted to change seats and plop himself down beside the man, but figured he wouldn't appreciate a random stranger trying to strike up a conversation. He snapped himself out of it and resumed his observations of the people around him.

People watching was a hobby of his. Human beings were so amazing, in everything they did. Bustling about in their routines, taking care of family, fretting over being late to some function, wandering aimlessly while hoping to find their true direction. There was nothing like it.

Watching people since he was a child, he'd learned to pick up on body language, just small nuances in behavior and posture that most might not pay attention to. It had been essential when he was younger, and his brothers and father were always fighting with one another. He'd needed his intuition to determine when to tread lightly, or when a fight might break out, so he could stay clear of the conflict.

"Oi, Gabe!" Chuck, the bus driver, called. "We're at your stop. You okay today? You seem kinda out of it."

He stood up and strolled over to the guy who had become somewhat of a friend over the past few weeks. "Just a bit tired after my wild threesome last night," he said with a wink.

"I know for a fact you are still as unattached and lonely as ever."

"I am not lonely! I'm just...selective about who I give my attention to. By the way, how do you even know I'm single?"

"Jo." He smirked at Gabriel. Or, as close as Chuck came to a smirk anyway. It was more akin to a grimace.

"You two are conspiring now. I'm doomed, aren't I?"

"Two friends talking is not 'conspiring'. Well, maybe it is for _you_. Oh, Becky says hi. Among...many other things. Look I'd love to talk, but I can't just sit here. I'm on the clock. Text me or something, but I've gotta get going."

"Fuck, yeah, I do too. Places to go, people's sugar addictions to fuel. Adios amigooo!" Gabriel sang, hopping off of the last step.

~

As Gabriel unlocked and opened the door to his bakery--dubbed 'Holy Cannoli'--the beginning instrumental of "Eye of the Tiger" began to play. It was his door chime. Unusual, yes, but that song was a total mood booster, and how boring was a door chime that just went "DING-DONG"? Really. His main goal in life has always been to leave a lasting impression.

He tugged on his apron and started his daily baking duties. For starters, today he was making ham and cheese croissants, pecan sticky buns, danishes, and some blueberry and oat muffins, for his early customers. In a little bit he'd get started on the brownies, lady fingers, death by chocolate cookies, and angel food cake. Jo would probably be here to help him by then, though.

Speak of the devil. The blonde waltzed into the door, hair swinging behind her in a ponytail, wearing jeans and Coca-cola sweatshirt with a bulging camo messenger bag hanging across her torso.

"What's in the bag?"

She sighed. "My _lunch_. Mom goes so overboard. For fucks sake, I'm 18. I can make my own food."

Jo Harvelle was slightly younger than what he'd had in mind for an assistant baker, but her mother Ellen has owned a roadhouse for years, so she'd had experience in the food industry already, and she proved to be a very hard worker.

Gabriel knew she wasn't frustrated with the lunch itself and more the general lack of freedom in her life. The issues with her mother were a popular topic of discussion. "Eh, she's a mom. They're supposed to be overbearing, aren't they? Can you help me with these danishes?"

Jo put on her own apron and made her way around the counter. "Sure. And I guess, yeah, but it's just so annoying sometimes. Particularly when it comes to Adam. I've talked about him, right?" At Gabriel's nod, she continued. "Well, we're going on a third date tonight, and mom is _freaking out_  about it. If she gives him some kind of interrogation, I'll die. Her version of a shovel talk involves actual shotguns."

"She hasn't met him yet? I'm surprised."

"No, I met him at the restaurant we were eating at. I'm not stupid enough to subject him to that on the first date. But I can't avoid the inevitable forever, so." She shrugged. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"C'mon, I've known you a little over a week and you've already been moping about your lack of a romantic and sexual life. I at least deserve updates."

"I do not mope! And there are no _updates_."

"You are so totally moping."

He flicked her on the hip with a hand towel. "Shut up and bake, woman."


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally adding more to this, wow. Is hell getting chilly yet?? 
> 
> Hope I'm doing this justice, bc I really like what I started there ages ago. 
> 
> All the thanks to Shane for getting me to write again. U MY MAIN BRO

_Bzzrt._

Sam jumped as he felt his phone vibrating in his pocket.

"Hello?"

"Hello Sam. I'm getting myself a coffee from Starbucks. Would you like me to pick you up one as well?" It was Cas, his friend from art class.

"Yeah, sure. That'd be great. Thank you." The little voice inside his head that sounded suspiciously like Dean was ranting about Starbucks coffee being utter shit, but caffeine was caffeine. Pulling all-nighters was starting to take its toll on him. He was more suited to quiet mornings. Whatever got the studying done, though. Plus, he could never deny himself anything caramel. It was his weakness.

"You're welcome. I'll see you in a few minutes." He said, and then promptly hung up.

Sam and Cas had an unusual friendship. They weren't close friends, but they weren't exactly just acquaintances either. Some people seemed to find him off-putting, but he just had issues relating to other people sometimes. He was pretty sweet in his own little way. They had a shared love of reading, (quite fitting on Cas' part, considering he was an English major) and spent a lot of time studying together and discussing books they read.

Also, Cas and Sam's brother Dean had some kind of weird thing going on, so there was that, too.

It mostly consisted of Cas going to the garage Dean worked at and coming up with any excuse to stick around, while Dean undressed him with his eyes and unknowingly confused Cas by making references to movies he'd never seen.

It was quite pathetic, really. The tension around those two was so stifling that Sam was tempted at times to just smash their heads together and end the little dance they had going.

As the bus slowed to a stop, he gathered his stuff together. He always carried a book and a sketchbook with him, in case he had an idea for a drawing, or was in a line and needed something to read to pass the time. He could get lost in another land, time, universe--or create one of his own.

Art was something he loved deeply. He hadn't discovered he had a passion for it until his late teens. It calmed him, drawing; it was a way to get all of the jumbled thoughts in his head to make sense. Later he would go and paint them in color, almost to signify that he'd moved on from whatever problem or emotion had been plaguing him at the time.

And when he was happy, well--whatever he was drawing or painting became this abstract thing, full of color and filled with personality and soul.

Art was a large part of who he was.

"Hey, Garth!" He said, calling out to his friend when he spotted him across the courtyard. Garth was pretty strange, but he was also an exuberant, affectionate guy, and a great friend. As long as you could handle him bringing out his sock puppet, Mr. Fizzles, at the weirdest--and usually most inopportune--times. Like while he was in the of a chemistry project last year. His lab partner wasn't very pleased.

"Hey, man!" Garth loped over and pulled Sam down for a hug. Sam chuckled and patted his back lightly.

"Are you headed to class?"

"Yeah, I've got Organic Chem. What about you?"

"Art. Good luck, man."

"Aw, not fair. You get to enjoy your class."

"I enjoy most of my classes."

He shook his head. "Touche, bro. Since you're into so many things, though, why haven't you picked your major yet?"

"I'm not sure what to pick, honestly."

Garth gave him a _look_. "Something to do with art? Duh. It's what you love the most, right? Seems kinda obvious to me."

"No. I wouldn't be able to do anything with a major in art. It's a pipe dream. Plus, I refuse to get a job doing what I love. It'd ruin it for me, and then what would I do for enjoyment? I'm considering looking more into law."

Garth sighed, shaking his head slightly, although he chose not to call him out on his overt misdirection. "Alright, whatever you say. You wanna hang out later tonight?"

"Shit, I'm sorry. No can do. I told Dean I'd help him tonight."

"Help with what?"

"Fixing stuff around the garage. His odd jobs, basically. Did you forget? Baby. Mailbox. Chipped paint. _Very_ pissed off Dean."

"Oh, yeah! I remember that. He wouldn't stop scowling for about a month. Well, sayonara." Garth snagged Sam into a hug again before they parted ways and headed to their respective classes.

~

Cas slipped into class just in time, handing over Sam's caramel macchiato and setting down his own black coffee. Sam nodded his thanks, taking a small sip to test the temperature. He flipped open his notebook and then leaned back, settling in.

Class passed fairly quickly, Sam draining his coffee, taking notes when necessary and doodling the rest of the time. He was currently trying to find inspiration for a concept he'd taken from reoccurring dreams he'd been having for years now. They didn't come often, and weren't very vivid--flashes of fluttering wings and teeth and horror and awe and beauty and pain, _so much pain_ \--but what he did remember piqued his interest, and he was trying to capture the emotions it evoked into visual form. So far he wasn't having much luck.

Cas laid a hand on his shoulder. "Sam? Ready to go?"

Sam laid down his pencil. "Oh. Yeah, yeah. Sorry about that."

He smiled slightly. "No need to apologize. Do you have plans for the rest of your day?"

The dude had some kind of crazy memory. Sam had only told him about his schedule once or twice, but that was all it took for him to have it memorized. He didn't really mind though, it made it easier to coordinate things.

"I'm helping Dean at the garage. It's my penance for crashing Baby." Sam paused for a moment, then took pity on his friend. "Want to come with?"

Cas perked up. "Yes! Please. I can assist with anything you need. My afternoon is free." He took Sam's cup from him and tossed it away with his own. 

Sam didn't know why he put up with this. He really didn't. "Lead the way."


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! I went way over my word minimum of 1,000 words for this chapter. I actually had a lot more planned, too, but I decided to go ahead and save it for later on since this got a bit wordy. I sincerely apologize if I didn't do these fella's justice in my portrayal. It's my first time writing them, so I'm struggling a bit with their voices. 
> 
> So. An explanation of why Sam rides the bus! Cas and Dean being Lame Gays! Tension between Sam and Bobby! Tune in next Friday for more shenanigans, kids. Same old time. Same old channel.

Cas pulled his Nissan Leaf slowly into the yard, Sam watching out for anything that might be bad on his tires. Bobby was usually pretty good at keeping things clear, but you could never be too careful.

Bobby had his own little thing going, and he had the advantage of being good at everything he tried out, so being eclectic never really came back to bite him in the ass. Parts--and entire cars in some cases--littered the entire yard, even over to Bobby's house. It looked like a total mess, but Sam was beyond used to it now after growing up with it. He learned the hard way that it may not look organized, but Bobby had everything in a certain spot, and he'd flip his shit if you moved stuff around unnecessarily. It was a salvage yard and repair shop thrown into one, and he'd made quite a name for himself.

Sam looked over to Cas. He was looking down and fiddling with the edge of his coat with one hand, the other tapping lightly on the steering wheel. Most likely sensing his gaze, he began to speak.

"Sam, are you sure I won't be intruding? I could go ahead and leave, let all of you have family time. Bonding."

"Cas, I'm sure. You're not intruding on anything, an outside party being with us keeps the death toll down to a minimum. Besides, I rode with you, you can't leave a man stranded." He flashed him a quick but reassuring smile.

Cas quickly nodded, and then sat up straighter. "Right."

Sam eyed him for another moment, and then patted his knee and climbed out of the car. He ducked down. "You coming?"

"Yes."

"You know, if you really want to bail then I'd be fine. It's really no problem, Dean can drive me. Or I can even use my car for a change."

"No no, this will be...pleasant."

Cas got out and smoothed his tie down, although it didn't do much. It was almost perpetually crooked, no matter how hard he tried.

 _Kind of like Dean's sexuality_. Sam snickered to himself. He ambled his way over to the open bay doors, Cas following behind, and called out over the din of rock music--no doubt Dean's doing. "Dean, Bobby! I'm done for the day, what are my assignments, o' majestic one?"

"Dean, turn that damn noise down! I can't hear Sam over all the claptrap you got goin' on." Dean quickly acquiesced, an arm slipping out from under a car with a remote in hand. "'ey Sam, have an okay day?"

"Yeah, it was good." He climbed onto one of the bar stools in the corner and tucked his legs into the opening.

A huff from Dean, who was still stuffed under the car. "Enough chit-chat, Sam I need you to clean and organize all that stuff I put over there for you." The arm popped out again to do a vague waving motion. Sam followed the general direction with his eyes. Over on the other side of the car he was near was a pile almost half as tall as he was, grimy and full of items and parts that _absolutely did not go together_. How all of this stuff got misplaced was beyond him. Dean was messy, sure, but this was pushing it. _Of course_ he gave him his least favorite job, though. Sam wasn't very surprised.

"Now that's just plain rude, Dean. Didn't even let me say hi to Cas before you--" Bobby was interrupted by the sound of something crashing into the car, and then a long groan of pain. A moments pause, and then: "Is Cas really here?"

Sam shared a grin with Bobby.

Castiel cleared his throat before speaking up. "Yes, I am here. Sam 'hitched a ride' with me. I'm here to help him with his work."

Dean went limp for a second, legs flopping down from their previously bent position before he recovered and slipped out from under the car. A small trickle of blood was running down his left temple.

Cas let out a noise of alarm. "Dean, you are injured." He quickly stepped up to Dean and lifted a hand to touch his face, but caught himself and moved back a step.

"It's nothin', I'm fine. I was just bein' stupid."

Cas narrowed his eyes and then looked to Bobby. "Where are the medical supplies kept?"

"Bathroom, second drawer down on the left."

"Thank you." Cas nodded to Bobby and Sam, and then shepherded a bewildered Dean out of the garage, presumably up to the house to tend to Dean's head. Sam spared Bobby a short glance before they burst into laughter. After Dean's many injuries over the years, they were both accustomed to dealing with situations like this. This particular one was nowhere near serious enough to get worried over. At least, not for them.

"That boy's got it bad for ol' blue eyes. Idjit." Bobby shook his head, threw a rag onto the countertop and then moved to continue his work.

"They both do. You should've seen Cas earlier after class."

"I'm tryin' to stay out of it because it ain't my business, but he's drivin' me up the wall with this bullcrap."

"I've thought about talking to Dean, but it'd probably end in him clamming up, and that's the last thing we need." Sam followed Bobby's lead and began working on his own task.

"Sam, not to change the subject--even though that's exactly what I'm tryin' to do here--but when are you ever gonna get your Charger from me? I'm takin' real good care of it but it seems silly for you to be gettin' rides from your buddies while you've got an alright car, sittin' right here."

"If it's a problem and you need me to take it off your hands, I can. I just really enjoy taking the bus more lately. It gives me time while I go from place to place to do other things."

Bobby stared at him. "Things like art?"

Sam avoided his eyes. "Let's not talk about this again. I know you want me to be happy, but I _am_. I'm fine with my decisions. Nothing good comes out of pursuing a career in any kind of art form."

"Damn it, Sam! I thought you were done with repeating the shit your dad fed to you! You've got a hell of a calling there, and you don't need to throw it away because of some outdated and closed-minded ideas your father held. At this point, the only thing holding you back from being the next goddamn da Vinci is yourself!" Bobby tossed down a car part he'd been holding, it landing with a resonating clink, startling Sam into looking up. He turned his puppy dog eyes on.

"I really don't want to get into this, Bobby. Please."

" _Fine_."

~

Dean was so far out of his frickin' depth.

His depth had run away screaming, and was now currently taking a li'l' vacation somewhere _far away from here_.

Cas had led him out of the garage, marched both himself and Dean into Bobby's house, pushed Dean down onto the closed toilet seat, and was now rummaging through a drawer full of first-aid supplies. Dean was still attempting to process this. Maybe he could blame it on the head wound. He'd been knocked around much worse than this, though, and it never made him _this_  stupid.

Cas ripped open a packet of wound wipes, and then took Dean's jaw in his free hand, angling the cut towards him slightly. "Please let me know if I need to be more gentle." He slowly and carefully dabbed away the blood as Dean used this time to watch Cas. He was so focused, so determined even over this small--and almost silly--task of taking care of _Dean_  of all people. It warmed Dean's insides a bit, even as it confused him further. He wasn't used to many people caring about him. Not without an ulterior motive. And hell, could he blame them, really?

Castiel finished the job with some ointment and butterfly closures. He moved back slightly to look at his work, and brushed a thumb across the bandages lightly.

"Are you alright?" He asked quietly. Dean looked away.

"Yeah, 'm fine. Good as new. Thanks for...that."

Cas' look of sincerity never wavered as he spoke. "Any time, Dean."

Dean cleared his throat. "Right. Well uh, we should head back out there. I gotta get back to work."

Cas stepped back, allowing him to pass by and walk out first. Dean gave a jerky nod, and then headed out, refusing to look back at Cas.


End file.
